I recently had the utter misfortune of sitting in the back seat of my car while I let my uncle drive. Please note - I absolutely had no intention of letting him drive. He just saw it as his sworn duty to do so.
I really wish my car had seat belts and, in this case, restraints, in the back seat.
I settled down for what I thought would be a smooth ride. After all, it was only from my house to the theatre. How bad could that be?
Heh. I was soon to find out.
No sooner had we left my lane than an ambassador turns in. Do note. My road is the most awful road in the history of roads. But thanks to technological advancement, it was finally discovered by road-rollers last week, and is now filled with the usual mess that accompanies it.
Now where was I? Ah. Yes. The ambassador almost collides with my car in its vain attempt to avoid the trenches on that side of the road. Smart uncle that I have, rolls down the window and shouts obscenities at the ambi driver that could make a sailor blush.
Leaving the ambi, now safely stuck in the mud and unable to follow, we brave our way to the mainroad and just miss the green light by a few seconds. With no music system in the car, my uncle feels that it is his duty to fill in the silence. He does this by ranting at the traffic lights, ranting at the traffic, ranting at the cop who was standing under the traffic light and picking his nose and ranting at the gloomy weather.
At last, after 99 seconds of red-light torture, we shoot across the main road and almost hit a cyclist. Down goes the window again and my uncle leans out and yells, "Moron!" along with a string of obscenities in German. Not that the cyclist would understand but hey, it’s worth a shot, eh?
Then of course, the ranting begins afresh. "Who do these guys think they are? I'll tell you what they are. Morons is what they are. Look at that guy. He's wiggling his right hand out the window and turning left! (Er...that IS the signal to turn left, I thought?) Arsehole. Cutting a traffic light instead of waiting for a few measly seconds more. Moron." The monologue continues and I tune out.
Except its really hard to tune out when you're getting jostled around so much at the back. If you're an exceptionally good driver and you rant and rave about other motorists, its one thing. But when you yourself are a horrendously bad driver, freakin' keep your mouth shut and concentrate on the road! Yes, this is where the restraints would come in handy in the back seat.
He continues to zig zag his way through traffic at high speed, while applying brakes every few seconds, all the while cussing anyone who dares overtake us or screech to a halt when we cut in front of them. Of course, there’s no use having the air con on cos' the window is perpetually down with his head stuck out of it, yelling at all the so-called morons and arseholes on the road.
At last, up ahead, I can see a red traffic light and sigh with relief. This will give me time to let my stomach and nerves settle down a little. But instead of slowing down, my uncle floors the accelerator and runs the red light, narrowly avoiding another car and a few dozen cyclists.
"Woah, did you see that?" he gloats. "I ran the light. Hehehe. Wow. See, the secret is to wait until the last minute before you do that. That way, the cops can't follow! What did you think? What did you think?"
Wait a second and I’ll tell you JUST what I think.
Moron.
